The danger didn't arrive loudly.
It crept in between ordinary moments.
Ife was in the kitchen the next morning, humming softly as she made tea. For a few seconds, life felt almost normal. The kettle whistled. Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains.
Then the power went out.
The sudden silence was wrong.
"Ife," Arden called from the bedroom. "Don't move."
Her heart jumped. "It's just the light."
Victor's voice came sharp and fast from the hallway. "That's not power failure. That's a cut."
Before Ife could react, the back door creaked.
Someone was inside.
Adrenaline slammed through her body. She grabbed the nearest thing— a wooden spoon— knowing how useless it was and not caring.
"Ife!" Arden shouted.
Footsteps moved closer.
Then a voice spoke calmly, amused.
"Relax. If I wanted you hurt, you wouldn't be standing."
A man stepped into the light. Younger than Julian. Lean. Smiling.
"Who are you?" Ife demanded, forcing her voice steady.
"Let's call me a messenger," he replied. "Julian likes conversations. This one is personal."
Arden burst into the kitchen, rage flashing in his eyes. "Get away from her."
The man raised both hands. "Easy. I'm not here to fight."
Victor appeared behind Arden, gun raised. "You have five seconds."
The man chuckled. "See? This is why Julian enjoys this family."
He turned to Ife. "You're stronger than I expected. Most people would've screamed."
She lifted her chin. "I'm not most people."
His smile widened. "Exactly why you're useful."
Before anyone could stop him, he dropped a phone on the counter.
"Three days," he said lightly. "Same offer. Only next time, Julian won't send me."
Then he stepped back, slipped out the door, and vanished.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Ife's hands shook violently now that the danger had passed. Arden crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could feel his heartbeat racing.
"I'm here," he murmured. "I've got you."
She pressed her face into his chest, breathing him in. "He was so calm."
"That's how they work," Victor said darkly. "They want you afraid without touching you."
Arden looked at Victor. "This ends now."
Victor met his gaze. "You sure?"
"Yes," Arden said. "No more running. No more guessing."
Ife pulled back slightly. "What are you thinking?"
He cupped her face gently. "I'm thinking of choosing loudly."
That afternoon, Arden did something Julian never expected.
He went public.
A single statement was released under Arden Blackwood's name—simple, clear, impossible to ignore.
I am alive.
I am in Nigeria.
And I am done hiding.
Victor stared at his phone in disbelief. "You just painted a target on your back."
Arden nodded. "Good."
Ife searched his face. "What if this makes it worse?"
He took her hands. "It already is. This just changes who controls the narrative."
Her throat tightened. "You're doing this for me."
"I'm doing this because I love you," he said quietly. "And I won't let fear decide my life anymore."
She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his. "Then I won't be silent either."
That night, Julian responded.
Another message.
Bold move, nephew.
Now let's see how brave love really is.
Ife read it over Arden's shoulder and didn't flinch this time.
She squeezed his hand. "Whatever happens next… we face it together."
Arden kissed her slowly, deeply, like a promise he intended to keep.
Outside, the wind rattled the windows.
The war was no longer quiet.
And love had officially become the battlefield.